In late spring, the school flowers had already begun to fade.

Adrian leaned half-heartedly against the archway at the corridor’s exit, one hand in his school uniform pocket, the other absently scrolling through his personal terminal’s floating screen, skimming through today’s news.

“Expansion Continues! The wings of ‘Butterfly’ will soon cover the Navi Star Zone! For the past ninety years, federal citizens across fifty-two star zones, including the Capital Star, have enjoyed a convenient and efficient life under the guidance of the second-generation artificial intelligence, ‘Butterfly.’ Today, at the Supreme Council’s press conference, it was announced that even the distant Navi Star Zone, the most remote corner of the Federation, will finally see the dawn of civilization…”

Seeing the words “dawn of civilization,” Adrian scoffed without hiding his disdain, impatiently opening the comments.

“Great! The Federation is finally complete!”

“At last, the Navi Star Zone is under Butterfly’s control. I heard it’s chaotic and poor there.”

“The only place yet to be taken over by Butterfly, where criminals all run to hide. No AI surveillance; it’s entirely human-governed. Of course, it’s a criminal paradise!”

“What?? Did I travel back to ancient Earth? There’s still a place not under AI jurisdiction? How do they even live?”

“If you don’t know, don’t embarrass yourself! Is it really that dramatic? ‘Butterfly’ was only born ninety years ago. People lived just fine before then.”

“Well, ninety years ago, there was ‘Chrysalis’! AI has managed the Federation for over two hundred years. Anything before that would be ancient history, right?”

“Obviously, you’re from the Capital. Last century, Chrysalis only managed the Capital Star Zone, not the entire Federation.”

“I had no idea there’s still a star zone under human governance… How do they even work or get married?”

“Random work, random marriage. Why do you think the Navi Star Zone is so backward?”

“The Supreme Council is so eager to promote that crazy AI, they’re abandoning common sense! Since when do butterfly wings qualify as ‘wings’?”

“Where did this anti-AI moron come from? Without AI, you’d be nothing but trash!”

…

…

…

Adrian slid through the comments lazily, seeing nothing but insults, as expected.

In today’s Federation, fifty-three star zones and over a hundred planets were inhabited by humans. The Capital Star and its neighboring, well-developed star zones had been under the management of the second-generation super AI, ‘Butterfly,’ for ninety years. The fifty-second star zone was incorporated into Butterfly’s jurisdiction thirty-seven years ago. The Navi Star Zone, however, was so far away and filled with complicated historical problems that it was left until now.

And now, was this last zone finally… about to fall?

Adrian liked a comment calling it a “crazy bug” and closed the news.

Thanks to artificial intelligence, human privacy was practically nonexistent today. In both reality and the online world, every move was nearly transparent. It wouldn’t be long before major media outlets would publish stories with headlines like: Adrian Atte, one of the Federation’s Twin Stars at the Highest Academy, likes a comment attacking ‘Butterfly’.

Adrian didn’t care in the slightest. Graduation was approaching, and as one of the two most watched young people entering society this year, he was already used to having every move of his under constant scrutiny. Being the direct eldest son of the traditional and ancient Atte Family, Adrian had made it clear that he stood against AI several times since entering the academy, opposing both his own family and the Supreme Council. Though he hadn’t officially stepped into society, he was already renowned across the Federation.

A class had just ended, and a group of underclassmen poured out of the archway.

At the back of the line, a few girls glanced repeatedly at Adrian, huddling together to whisper and giggle, nudging each other. Soon enough, one bold girl came over, asking, “Senior Atte, are you here waiting for President Zhong?”

Adrian grinned openly. “Yep.”

“Wow!”

“So romantic!”

The girls’ whispers gradually faded away, and Adrian’s mood finally lifted a bit—they had just mentioned Zhong Yan, the person he was waiting for.

The Federation’s Highest Academy had another legend: a young man from a humble background, an orphan with no connections, who had scored top marks and entered the Highest Academy. His performance was dazzling, becoming the student council president in his second year. Balancing school responsibilities while maintaining his rank as the top student in his major, he and Adrian Atte, the military division’s top student, were known as the Twin Stars.

Everyone speculated where the Twin Stars of the Highest Academy, the two hottest young talents in the Federation, would go after graduation.

“President.” A classmate nudged Zhong Yan lightly with the tip of a stylus. “Your Atte is waiting for you outside.”

Zhong Yan glanced at the professor, who was still lecturing, and whispered, “How do you know?”

“I saw it on the school forum. Here, let me show you—”

Zhong Yan adjusted the transparency of his virtual screen, concealing it as he opened his personal terminal and clicked on the link his desk mate sent him to the school forum.

“#TwinStars: Spotted Atte Senior Waiting for President Zhong Outside—Photo.jpg”

Zhong Yan didn’t look at the comments. Instead, he gazed at the photo, studying it for a moment.

Three years ago, when he first met Adrian, they were both only seventeen. Seventeen-year-old Adrian wore a brand-new uniform, surrounded by seniors from other prestigious families, with polite and distant expressions. But when Zhong Yan appeared, Adrian’s eyes lit up, and he called out, “Zhong Yan!”

With the highly developed modern network, the top scorer’s full-body image had spread across every corner of the Federation when the exam results were published. Discussions exploded over the newcomer’s orphan status and striking appearance.

In contrast, that year’s second-place finisher—Adrian Atte—was left in the shadows. So it was no wonder Adrian paid special attention to the top scorer who had outshone him before even setting foot in the academy. That was why he immediately recognized Zhong Yan.

Seventeen-year-old Zhong Yan was far less polished than he was now, but his nature remained steady. He nodded under the watchful gaze of the privileged students, saying, “Hello, Mr. Atte.”

“Call me Adrian.” The distinguished young master was suddenly friendly and approachable. “We’re in the same dorm. I’ll show you the way.”

Zhong Yan followed along, offering the scowling young masters and ladies a soft “Pardon.”

For a long time, Zhong Yan thought Adrian’s actions held some hidden purpose. Later, he realized it was just Adrian’s typical privileged attitude—he wouldn’t even bother pretending with those he disliked or didn’t align with. As he put it: “With the most gorgeous and capable person in the school as my roommate, why would I care about those parasites’ feelings?”

Three years had passed. The young man in the photo had shed his boyish looks. His chiseled features gave him a natural air of authority when he wasn’t smiling. But he usually was smiling, like in the candid photo: a faint smile played on his lips, a pink petal rested unknowingly in his black hair, and he was focused on his terminal screen. The Atte family’s hallmark—those rare silver eyes—were half-lidded, hiding his expression.

The post was on the gossip board, and it was easy to guess what the comments were about. For the past three years, the “Twin Stars” tag accounted for at least a quarter of the gossip board’s traffic. Zhong Yan didn’t bother looking, closing his terminal, and whispering to his desk mate, “Stop checking the forum. This professor has eagle eyes.”

Reluctantly, his classmate closed the virtual screen, sighing, “They’re convincing me to believe it. So, are you two—”

“We’re not,” Zhong Yan said.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Zhong Yan panted slightly. “The professor dragged on with the topic…”

Adrian took his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and put an arm around Zhong Yan’s shoulders. “So what if it took a while? Why rush?”

Zhong Yan smiled. “I was worried you’d be waiting.”

From running over, Zhong Yan’s always-pale cheeks had flushed, making him look even younger, like a fresh-faced sixteen- or seventeen-year-old, instead of a twenty-year-old senior. Adrian couldn’t help but stare.

“Let’s go.” Zhong Yan tugged at his clothes. “The cameras are here.”

Adrian snapped back to attention, spotting a pair of patrolling surveillance cameras hovering close. Detecting students lingering, they floated down to eye level and approached.

Adrian held up a peace sign to the camera, and the two of them laughed, walking shoulder to shoulder toward the dorms.

“Adrian Atte!”

The hall erupted in cheers, proving how popular he was. Adrian leaped onto the stage, his carefree manner clashing with the formal atmosphere.

Quickly, people forgot about his unceremonious entrance. He strode to the stage’s center without waiting for the screen behind him to display the results, declaring, “I reject AI’s optimal career suggestion. Send the fine to my account, thanks.”

His voice echoed through the grand hall of the Highest Academy: “Friends! See you in the Navi Star Zone!”

Cheers, whistles, and questioning boos blended together as Adrian strode down, high-fiving his classmates, before turning to watch the last student ascend the stage.

The legendary Student Council President, Zhong Yan.

When Zhong Yan rejected AI’s suggestion, Adrian watched the stage, smiling at him: just-turned-twenty, black-haired, dark-eyed, handsome as a painting. Just a few more seconds—

Zhong Yan looked at the screen, not glancing down or at anyone else, and made his decision without hesitation.

“I accept.”

The hall buzzed. Half the crowd whispered, while the other half looked at Adrian.

Adrian’s smile faltered into shock, only now noticing the massive screen displaying Zhong Yan’s accepted position: Capital Star, Supreme Council, Councilor.

For two centuries, the Supreme Council had led the AI project. Dubbed “Butterfly’s Cabinet,” it was the pinnacle of the AI administration.

In that moment, anger burned through Adrian’s veins.

“Boss… uh, about the plan, are we still going through with it?” his buddy Finn stammered.

With eyes blazing, Adrian glared at Finn, then stormed out of the graduation ceremony amidst the crowd’s murmurs and stares.

He went straight to the dorm to grab his luggage, leaving before the ceremony ended. Without waiting for Zhong Yan to return, he walked away from the academy alone.

And after that farewell, they wouldn’t meet again for a long, long seven years.